


free city for the enterprising

by ConvenientAlias



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mind Control, Non-Consensual Kissing, Non-Consensual Touching, Vampires, glamour, in small quantities
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-21
Updated: 2018-04-21
Packaged: 2019-04-25 16:41:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14382744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConvenientAlias/pseuds/ConvenientAlias
Summary: Christine finds Raoul sitting in her dressing room when she returns to freshen up between acts. There is a glazed look in his eyes, and he doesn’t look up when she enters. There is, more noticeably, a spot of blood on his neck where his collar has been loosened, and his tie is undone. It’s the kind of disarray that Christine likes to cause on him herself, but she doesn’t like the look of it tonight.She examines the blood spot. There are two actually. Perfect little puncture wounds. She can picture how Erik’s teeth would have sunk in—precise, careful, so as not to bite down anywhere else. It might not even bruise.





	free city for the enterprising

Christine finds Raoul sitting in her dressing room when she returns to freshen up between acts. There is a glazed look in his eyes, and he doesn’t look up when she enters. There is, more noticeably, a spot of blood on his neck where his collar has been loosened, and his tie is undone. It’s the kind of disarray that Christine likes to cause on him herself, but she doesn’t like the look of it tonight.

She examines the blood spot. There are two actually. Perfect little puncture wounds. She can picture how Erik’s teeth would have sunk in—precise, careful, so as not to bite down anywhere else. It might not even bruise.

She waves a hand in front of Raoul’s face. He blinks and looks at her, still dazed. “Christine…?”

“Raoul. How long have you been here?”

“You told me to meet you here, Christine. I have a…” He takes an envelope out of her pocket. She puts it on her desk. Erik has learned how to forge her handwriting. He is a clever man. She hates him, sometimes, but he is clever, no denying that (though one might deny the “man” part of the appellation).

“So. Since my show began?”

He nods.

“It’s kind of you to come to talk to me.” She takes out her brush and comb. Her own hair is sweaty and a little mussed, but Raoul’s hair is a bit messed up too, and that bothers her more. She brushes it quietly, and he doesn’t even react when she rakes the bristles a little too hard against his scalp. The glamour can take a while to wear off, she knows that. She knows that from personal experience.

“Did anyone come in here, Raoul?”

He blinks at her.

“Did anyone come in here, Raoul?”

“I…no, I don’t think so. But I think I fell asleep…”

Christine swallows. She smoothes Raoul’s hair back one last time, this time with her hand. Then she dampens a handkerchief with her drinking water and hands it to him. “They’ll be wanting me back onstage, Raoul.”

He nods.

“Use this to clean yourself. There’s something on your neck.” She takes a heavy chair and places it in front of the mirror. She can’t remember what direction it opens—she’s been glamored every time. But it’s a good start, at least. Erik wouldn’t come back so soon, but she hates to take the chance, to leave Raoul so vulnerable. But what else can she do? There’s no one here to watch him, and nowhere to put him where he’d be any safer. “Please stay here until I come back.”

“Are we getting dinner tonight?”

“Yes. I think so. Wait here for me.” She kisses his forehead. “I’ll only be a minute.” She’ll be gone another half hour before she’s done for the night, but to someone in his state, it will feel like no time at all.

When she comes back for him later, her theory bears out—he barely reacts to her arriving, although when she kisses him on the lips he responds with surprising eagerness. That’s another effect of a vampire glamor, a desire for physical affection, a hunger. She shouldn’t take advantage, but she can’t help clinging to him for a long moment. She’s not sure whether it’s that she wants him, even in this state, to protect her from her worries, or if it’s that she wants to protect him instead. Maybe they’re both the same thing.

“I’ll walk you home tonight,” she tells him. She will. And then she’ll come back to the opera house and tell Erik what she thinks of his targeting one of the only people she loves.

 

* * *

 

Raoul knows he’s made Christine worried, and he knows why. Tonight he acted like an idiot, dazed and a little out of his mind. And that stupid cut—he thinks he made it shaving but he can’t quite remember and it hurts more than a little scrape ought to—he shouldn’t have made her see his blood, she’s a delicate soul. He’s put something on her, and that’s his own fault. He should have been more…put together, and definitely shouldn’t have shown her the cut.

Thing is, he’s not sure why he was so dazed in the first place. If he asked Philippe about it, he knows what answer he’d get: it’s another one of his “odd moods”, like when he spends days in bed, disinterested in any of the things he enjoys, thinking only of his own faults and occasionally, morbidly, of what it would be like to die, whether he should kill himself and get it over with. Philippe is always paranoid that he’ll fall into one of those moods at any given moment. But this isn’t one of those. Raoul knows what those feel like. They are, to begin with, unpleasant. And this…

This was not unpleasant. Oddly. He’d felt dreamily pleased at seeing Christine, he’d desired her, he’d felt a half-awake joy. And now, even in the aftermath, his body feels fatigued but also weirdly pleasant, as if he had sex earlier.

He’d lost time, too. That’s not normal for him.

He’ll work it out. He knows, though, he can’t show this to Christine again. He hates that she so often stumbles upon him at his worst. It won’t happen again. He’ll figure out what it is and stop it.

But those thoughts, and yesterday’s incident, won’t keep him away from the opera house. He needs to see Christine. And there’s something else—he feels a need to go there. He goes there earlier than usual even. He doesn’t head toward Christine’s room as he might usually. Instead, he wanders through empty hallways, avoiding the chorus girls and dancers and backstage workers who hurry from room to room. There is someone he is looking for. They are not Christine. They are nothing like Christine. He just can’t remember who they actually are.

And then he hears the voice. It wafts from the walls and rustles his hair like a wind. The pinpricks on his neck throb with heat, and he puts a hand to them, presses down and makes them hurt a little bit more, just enough to like it. The voice seems to slip in through the cuts. It sinks into his bloodstream, and he lets it carry him away.

 

* * *

 

Yesterday night, Christine came to Erik and told him to knock it off. She told him Raoul was hers.

“Haven’t I given you enough?”

He laughed at her, raised the single eyebrow he allows to be visible. Deliberately, calmly. “Aren’t I the one who has given everything to you?”

“I have given you my voice to shape. I have given you my time, my attention, my very life.” Her voice trembled. She claimed to be angry, and she tried to be strict, but he could tell she was afraid, as she always was, no matter how she tried to hide it. “If you want more blood from me…”

“I do not suffer from lack of blood.”

“Then you do not need to touch him.” She licked her lips. “And you won’t do it again.”

He laughed and agreed. Said he didn’t know she was so fond of him.

She seems to think he did it because he wanted to hurt her. But he didn’t. He just thinks Raoul de Chagny smells good, and looks good, and tastes better than either.

And he promised not to taste Raoul again. But with the boy standing here in his lair, Erik’s mark still on his neck and Erik’s glamor strong in his eyes, he can’t for the unlife of him remember why he agreed to something so unpleasant.

“I’m so glad to see you again,” he says to Raoul. Raoul doesn’t respond. His mind is not yet accustomed to Erik. Someday he may be able to carry on intelligent conversation in this state, if Erik trains him right, if Erik gets him used to it.

“Did you miss me?”

Raoul cocks his head and furrows his brow. Erik laughs. Oh, maybe he did. Or at least his body did. A human body, once bitten, will never be twice shy but will forever crave the sensation’s return. It amuses him that he has such sway over the boy, who at this point can barely rationalize his existence.

He wraps a hand gently around Raoul’s neck. Doesn’t squeeze, just feels it. Appreciates the tendons, the bump of the spinal cord, and of course the pulsing carotid artery. Raoul’s body is so gorgeous, and Erik thinks to himself, he may do many things for Christine, but he will never let her ruin his enjoyment of a piece of art.

He kisses his mark on Raoul’s neck and Raoul shivers, arching into the contact. He’d like the bite, no matter how Christine would like to protect him. Not today, though. If he drains Raoul too much he’ll get anemic. Be sick for days. He’ll let Raoul recover and then he can drink again, maybe in a week or so. Temperance is an important quality.

But that doesn’t mean he can’t enjoy Raoul in other ways. He still likes the smell of him, the taste of his sweat even when denied his blood. He licks, teeth only grazing skin. Christine told him not to touch, and she’ll probably see the bruise his lips are leaving. Too bad. Despite what she claims, she still owes him more than he owes her.

Besides, Raoul isn’t hers. Raoul isn’t really anyone’s, and Paris is a free city for the enterprising. Erik may do as he likes.

When he is done, he says to Raoul, “Will you remember me this time?”

Raoul nods. But he would agree to anything.

“Try to remember my name. It’s Erik.”

Raoul nods.

“Can you say that?”

He speaks, but it’s a mumble.

“Close enough. Now, I think you’d better go home. You’re tired, and you’d only cause Christine trouble tonight.” Erik pats his head. “Don’t be sad. I’ll see you again soon.”

Raoul nods again and unexpectedly, he smiles. Until now, he lacked all emotion except confusion and desire. But now, he seems cheerful, affectionate. Erik will take this as a good omen. See? Raoul likes him. Raoul wants him. Christine can’t understand that, and neither would the world if they knew, but it’s real, and Raoul and Erik understand each other. “Soon,” he repeats, and he smiles back.

**Author's Note:**

> Someone prompted me "Either E/R or C/R vampire AU with a human!R." I think I may have gone a little dark/kinky--that's the problem with me and E/R. Also, for a counterpoint (vampire!Raoul and human everyone else), see my fic Bloodless Doll.  
> Comments and kudos are much appreciated! Or come talk to me on tumblr at convenientalias.


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